


Come Out Of The Cold

by krsive



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Bottom Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Child Abuse, Consensual Underage Sex, Latino Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Love, M/M, Punk Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Slow Burn, Smut, Switch Rick Sanchez, Time Travel, Underage - Freeform, i don't know what else to put, i just hope you guys like this, it's slow for me, more like slow-ish burn, ok?, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krsive/pseuds/krsive
Summary: When Morty accidentally travels back in time, can he count on Rick to get him home?
Relationships: Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith, Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 164
Kudos: 292





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! Welcome to my second ever fanfiction! I hope you enjoy and keep coming back for the subsequent chapters. ^_^

It all started with the Christmas tree. 

The family had spent most of the day on it: cutting down their own at the tree farm, stringing garlands and carefully placing bulbs and ornaments under Beth’s watchful eye. But when it came time for the crowning moment, they realized that they had left the cherubic tree topper in the garage. Morty drew the short straw and headed to retrieve it.

He wasn’t feeling the Christmas spirit this year. Something dark had been roiling in his heart lately, some emotion gestating but not coming to its birth yet birthed. And for a week now he had been fighting migraines without any reprieve from the adventures to nurse them. Rick had just barely agreed to stop for Christmas, and Morty had spent his few quiet days holed up in his room with a pillow over his eyes, mostly ignoring his mom’s not-so-subtle suggestions to join everyone else for the festivities. Today, Christmas eve, he had known without even trying that he couldn’t get out of any of it. So here he was climbing up the shelves to fetch the box of Christmas decorations at the back corner of the very top shelf.

All of a sudden there was a visceral panic deep in his belly, a primitive warning of impending death. He had missed the sturdy shelf on a reach and instead grabbed the front edge of a box labeled ‘Time Travel Stuff.’ It was too light to hold his weight, and immediately he and the box both went tumbling toward the ground.

Just ahead of him fell a device that looked like a large spinning top with glass sides. He heard it shatter right before he hit the ground.

The ground. Not the right ground, though. Morty was laying in snow, and when he stopped seeing white from the impact of his head on the floor, he realized he was staring up at a street light and a dark sky tinted grey from a full moon hidden behind clouds. Huge fluffy flakes of snow were still falling, alighting in his chocolate brown curls and his soft lashes. He sat up and looked around himself. The surroundings looked vaguely familiar--an urban street of mom-and-pop storefronts. They all seemed to be shuttered at the moment.

His teeshirt was soaked through with melted snow and he was shivering hard already, so he pushed himself up and set out to find a landmark. Or a person. Or, preferably, both--he figured that was his best shot for getting home. He didn’t have to walk far to get to a corner with street signs, and he couldn’t help but stand gawking for a while. First and Main. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? A second look around confirmed it--the library cattycorner from him was easily recognizable. He was in his hometown.

Morty couldn’t believe his luck. No, he _really_ couldn’t believe his luck. Somehow the familiar surroundings were growing rapidly uncanny all around him. There had to be a second shoe that was going to drop any moment now. Nothing having anything to do with Rick was this simple. Not ever. 

Shivering, he checked his phone. No service. Not a single bar. That struck him as ominous, but he tried not to think about it. Maybe there was a system wide outage or some shit like that. It would be just his luck.

One problem at a time, though. He had to either hitchhike out of here or try to walk home, because standing around in a wet teeshirt in the snow was definitely not an option. He walked past a dark alley uneasily and stopped in front of a convenience store. Maybe he could make a little of his own luck. If he could get into the store he could get some money and call a taxi from the landline inside. He wouldn’t have long to get the fuck out of dodge when the alarm went off, but it would be worth it if he didn’t freeze to death.

Under normal circumstances he would have picked the lock--one of the many skills he had picked up on his adventures--but he didn’t have his thieves’ tools with him and he wasn’t likely to find a pair of bobby pins randomly on the street. He was loathe to do it, but it looked like he had no choice but to break the glass door. He backtracked nervously to the alley and found, to his warm relief, a chunk of concrete with a length of rebar sticking out of it. An honest-to-god club. Feeling relief for the first time in what felt like hours, he picked it up and made his way back to the door.

But he couldn’t help but hesitate when he got there. He just felt so bad that some poor family was going to have to deal with a break in on Christmas morning. And it wasn’t only the cost of the door that would hurt them, but the loss of all sense of security. Morty knew what that felt like if anyone did. The cold midnight anxiety of the death of safety. The wondering what would have happened if he had been in a slightly different place at a slightly different time. His shirt felt like it was freezing to his back, though, and so he held the club out like a baseball bat and wound up to swing.

The gritty sound of footsteps on wet pavement came up behind him, and Morty immediately lowered the club. He whirled around toward the noise.

An older teen had come up behind him. His hair was dark and unkempt, soft and feathery. Even in the dark Morty could see that his eyes were ice blue and glinting with raw and wild intelligence. He wore a studded leather jacket, black combat boots, and possibly a bit too much eyeliner. His fingers were curled protectively around what had to be a joint, judging by the earthy scent. Taken all together, he was heart-wrenchingly handsome. 

And he was, undoubtedly, Rick _fucking_ Sanchez.

Morty didn’t feel the club slip from his fingers or hear it fall to the ground with a metallic clatter. His eyes were locked helplessly on the Rick doppleganger’s face, on the familiar smirk growing on unfamiliar lips. 

“R-R-Rick?” Morty’s voice came out as a dry croak, unbidden. 

“Don’t wear it out, kid,” Rick replied. Morty detected a slight Spanish accent in his voice. He took a hit off of his joint and blew the smoke to the side, a small gesture of courtesy. “Do I know you?” 

Stuttering random noises, Morty managed to find himself just enough to shake his head. Clearly, he didn’t. 

Rick held out the joint, offering to share, and Morty shook his head again. Rick shrugged, clearly indicating _more for me_ , and hit it again.

“So what the fuck are you doing out here?” he asked, raising his brow inquisitively.

Morty looked down at his club and then back up at Rick. “B-b-b-breaking into this store,” he blurted out, wishing immediately that he could stuff the words back in his mouth. This Rick’s gravelly voice was the same one that he had come to learn to obey without question. 

Rick snorted. “I can see that much. Why?”

That was when it dawned on Morty--this was A Rick. He stepped toward him excitedly, balling up his fists under his chin. “I’m Morty C-137 and I got separated from my Rick. You can help me get home, right?”

The boy just blinked back at him, and then looked down at his joint before putting the roach out on the ground. “Either that shit was laced or someone put you up to fucking with me,” Rick growled, a predatory threat in his voice. “And I grow my own shit. That just leaves...”

Morty’s gut dropped, and he backed away from Rick in self preservation. “No no no no, I’m not trying to fuck with you. I...I thought you were someone else.” It was true enough. Morty had thought he found his ticket home, but it seemed he had just deepened the mystery he was trapped in. To his eternal shame, he felt hot tears slide down his cheeks. He scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand. 

Rick gave a groaning sigh. “Ok, look, kid. I’m a sucker for a pretty face, so just--just tell me what’s wrong, ok?”

Morty was desperate to keep himself together, but he was still sniffling and his chest felt like it was about to burst. “I...I...I’m lost,” he bawled. “I don’t know where I am. I don’t even know what year it is!” He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to contain his sobs and his body heat.

“What the fuck? Seriously? You got amnesia or something?”

Morty could do nothing but nod miserably. “Something like that.”

“Well, it’s 1975. And welcome to the middle of fucking nowhere. Come on, kid. I’ve got somewhere you can go for now.”

Without waiting to see if Morty would follow, Rick began to walk back the way he had come from. Even after the growth spurt Morty had gone through at 16, he was still miserably shorter than Rick and he had to add a little skip every few steps to keep up with his long-legged stride. He was so focused on keeping up that he didn’t notice Rick taking off his jacket until it was thrown over Morty’s shoulders. It was still warm from Rick’s body. Morty looked up at Rick with wet eyes, but the older teen wasn’t even looking at him, just walking quietly down the street in his ripped blue teeshirt.

“S-so where are we g-g-going, Rick?” Morty asked. He didn’t mention the jacket for fear that it would be taken from him again. It smelled of musk and weed and booze and something intrinsically Rick, but noticeably absent was the scent of motor oil that Morty knew so well. He burrowed into it. Apparently his body had been beginning to go numb, because only now that it was warming up was he aware of exactly how cold he was. 

“They never lock the gym entrance of the high school,” Rick explained. “Or the attic door. I go up there to get high all the time.” He gazed at Morty for a moment as if to gauge his reaction and, when Morty simply held his gaze he went on. “It’s kinda shitty up there but there’s like nurse’s cots and old blankets. I’ve gotten laid there so many times, kid, so I know no one goes up there. It’s comfortable enough for you to spend a couple of nights.”

“M-m-my name’s Morty.”

“What?”

“Not ‘k-kid.’”

Rick snorted. “Right. Morty. Dumb fucking name, by the way.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Rick burst out laughing. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you just agreed with me.” He elbowed Morty in the arm, throwing him off balance for a moment. “That’s priceless.”

Morty tried his best to laugh along, but he just wasn’t feeling it. He was lost alone in the past without any way to get a message to his Rick. Sure, he had 1975 Rick, but for how long? Morty knew from experience just how short Rick’s attention span was. Anything other than a fascinating problem that needed solving was disposable to him. And Morty couldn’t consider himself fascinating in any way. 

“What am I going to eat?” Morty wondered aloud miserably. His hair was wet and beginning to freeze on his head, his feet were sore and cold. He looked up in wonder when Rick reached over and tousled his hair.

“Don’t even sweat it. I’ve got your back, Morty.”

“R-Really?”

“No,” Rick snarked, “I plan to shove you in a closet and let you starve. Duh doi, Morty.”

“Ok, geez, you don’t have to bust my balls,” Morty groused. He crossed his arms, feeling cold and tired, hungry and miserable. Embarrassed. Out of his mind with worry. How long would it be before his Rick figured out where he was and came for him? But it was hard to muster up the choler to mount a real defense of himself. He was just too tired.

“I don’t see what else is in it for me,” Rick said. Then he leaned closer to Morty and draped his long arm over his shoulders. “Unless you wanna fuck,” he purred, voice conspiratorially low.

“Wh-I-I-I-I…”

Rick threw his head back and laughed, but he didn’t move his arm. “Oh, don’t worry, Morty. You’re too cute not to fuck, but clearly your little ass is traumatized tonight. I can wait.”

“Never gonna happen,” Morty warbled. His face felt warm despite his firm words. Rick might have been...Rick, but he was undeniably hot and Morty felt some complicated stirrings deep in his belly being this close to him.

“What? Think you’re too straight for it?”

“No,” Morty muttered, unable to directly lie to Rick.

Rick cackled at that. “Oh, yeah. We’re definitely fucking.”

They walked the rest of the way in a silence that, while not exactly companionable, wasn’t unpleasant. True to Rick’s word, the backmost gym door was unlocked, and they made their way through the Harry Herpson High to a door Morty had never been through before. It led to a narrow staircase that emptied out in a dusty attic. Insulation showed in between the studs and joists and there was only one window, a half circle set high in the wall. It was darker in here than it had been outside. Morty nearly took out his cellphone to light the way by reflex, but caught himself with his hand in his pocket and decided that it was safer not to use it in front of Rick. He didn’t know what kind of response he’d get. Regardless, there was a flicker of light beside him. Rick had retrieved a candle from somewhere and lit it.

“A security guard checks out the campus a couple of times a night, so you don’t want to turn the overhead light on after dark. There’s candles and matches here, so just use them.” He moved around the space with authority, moving things around to set up a space for Morty. A cot was produced and set up, a dusty blanket retrieved from a cupboard. “I wouldn’t go downstairs during the day if I were you once Christmas break is up. You look like you’re probably a terrible liar.” Rick reached out and brushed Morty’s bangs off of his forehead. “We’ll figure this out. Meantime I’ll be back tomorrow with food.”

“Th-thank you, R-R-Rick.” Morty could feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes again. He just wanted this all to be over. But he tried to put on a brave face as he handed this Rick’s jacket back to him.

“See you tomorrow, Morty. Don’t let the fucking bedbugs bite.”

“Are th-there really--”

“No idea. Adios.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time-Period appropriate homophobic/xenophobic language.

A week passed, and then another with no sign of Morty’s Rick. 1975 Rick, on the other hand, had become the new solid rock of his life. He came every day to bring food; brown bag lunches and dinner leftovers on paper plates. 

On this particular night it was homemade tamales that lived up to the hype Rick had been building about them all damn week. Morty was getting used to eating with his fingers by now, and he just appreciated the meal and the company. He’d started to go more than a little stir crazy, and his evenings with Rick were quickly becoming the highlight of his life. If he spent much more time cooped up here he was going to forget about his entire previous life.

“I have a surprise for you, Morty,” said Rick, when Morty was finished eating and licking sauce off of his fingers. 

“Wh-what is it, Rick?”

“Ta-da!” Rick whipped some papers out of his inside jacket pocket and unfolded them. “Take a look at _that!_ ”

Morty took the papers from him once his fingers were clean, and squinted at them in the dim candlelight. 

Rick rolled his eyes. “It’s admission papers. Your dumb ass is now officially enrolled in Harry Herpson High School.” Morty looked up at Rick, who was beaming back at him, like he had three heads. 

“Why?” 

“What? Because you’re going crazy up here, dipshit, which means you’re driving me crazy.”

“It’s not that bad,” Morty grumped defensively.

“Morty, you named all the spiders and you’ve been telling me about them every day like it’s fucking Days of Our Lives. You need to get out of this attic. And it’s pretty clear that your grandpa isn’t coming to get you any time soon. So I forged enrollment papers and you’re an official student starting tomorrow.”

Morty squinted at the paper and frowned. “This says I’m fifteen.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m seventeen! Geez, Rick, do you even--are you even ever listening to me?”

“Seventeen?! Jesus, I thought fifteen was overshooting.”

“Man, I have to be a sophomore again?” Morty put down the papers and looked up at Rick, narrowing his eyes. “Wait, you thought I was fourteen and you wanted to have sex with me?”

Rick chuckled, spreading his hands in a ‘you got me’ gesture. “What can I say? I’m not above slumming it for a pretty face. Doesn’t hurt if it’s attached to a nice ass.”

“Slumming it? Th-th-that’s not the--never mind.” Morty groaned in a very familiar sort of frustration, very used to Rick-level shenanigans by now. 

He was about to complain about having to be a sophomore again when he realized he’d barely been a sophomore at all, considering how little time he spent in his high school in the future. Maybe this would go differently. Maybe he could get a cute little girlfriend to occupy his time until his grandfather showed up. He looked up to see that Rick’s enticing blue eyes were locked on him, and he felt himself blush deeply. No. No, no, no. That he had a very cute person already throwing himself at him didn’t even brook a single thought. He was disgusting for even thinking Rick looked so good. He needed a shower right now about twice as bad as he already had a moment ago. A very, very cold one.

“Alright, Rick. I’ll go to school.” What a weird thing to say.

The next morning, as planned, Morty waited at the bottom of the attic stairs until he heard three raps at the door, at which time he slipped out. He nearly collided with Rick, who had to grab him by the shoulders to keep him from tripping.

“Ok, Morty. Here’s your notebook...a pencil...and your class schedule. I can show you around if you--”

“I know my way.” When Rick quirked his eyebrow, Morty cleared his throat. “From late night exploration,” he offered by way of explanation. It seemed to pass, because Rick didn’t make any further remarks on the matter.

“I worked it so that our lunches are at the same time,” Rick said, gesturing to the lunch slot on his schedule. “Find me out back under the bleachers once class lets out, and we can eat together. This place is the fucking pits, Morty, so I bet you’re finally gonna let me smoke you up at lunch. Anyway, people are going to start coming in soon, so we should go wait outside. If a teacher sees me being the first student in here they’ll probably have a heart attack.”

“Uh huh, Rick. G-Got it. Under the b-b-bleachers.” He couldn’t have picked a more stereotypical place, but Morty wasn’t about to point that out. This Rick didn’t seem as grouchy as his Rick at home, but Morty had no doubt that all Ricks were dangerous at their very cores.

From a bench out front the two of them watched students file in through the front doors, Morty laughing to himself at the old-fashioned haircuts. Rick chain smoked and Morty thought he looked nervous, though that had to have been a misinterpretation...right? Rick was incapable of feeling nervous. He was a walking bomb of testosterone and confidence. Unlike Morty, who began to feel as if he was sinking into the floor the moment that they parted that morning. He made his way into Spanish 101 by himself and more or less tried to literally keep his head down all day. Shamefully enough, almost nothing made any sense to him; he had missed the foundations laid in a normal student’s freshman year and now Algebra 2 might as well have been Greek. Outside on his way to lunch, with his eyes on his shoes, Morty was wondering if Rick would help him prepare for the Spanish test next week when he ran into somebody. 

The boy was much bigger than Morty, broad in the shoulders emphasized by the pointed lapels of his print-dotted shirt. He was blond and shovel-faced, and Morty was pretty sure that he knew his type just by the cruel slant to his smile. He began to back away, and the boy stepped forward to keep the distance between them closed. 

“What’s the rush, faggot?” the boy asked him, and he laughed when Morty blanched. “Yeah, that’s right. I saw you with that queer Rick Sanchez this morning. What are you, his little boyfriend?” The boy made kissing noises at Morty and laughed, self-congratulating, at his own pathetic excuse for a joke. 

“N-No, shut the fuck up,” Morty said, trying to sound as big and confident as he could. He had held his own against worse than this piece of shit, but there was something about a high school bully that still curdled his stomach and sapped the strength from his limbs. He didn’t like where this was going, and he didn’t like his chances.

“Are you seriously telling me to shut the fuck up?” the boy asked, looking over his shoulders mockingly as if searching for an alternative target for Morty’s words. “That was a big mistake, Smith.” He reached out and pushed Morty firmly by both shoulders.

Morty pushed him back and it devolved into furious grappling. Morty grabbed a handful of the other boy’s shirt and tried to hang on to keep himself upright. A button popped off of the shirt and, in a fury, the blond boy growled and brought his knee up into Morty’s stomach. All of the breath went out of him. He clung on, gasping, and it took another strike to his stomach to shake him. When Morty fell to the ground the boy grinned grimly and grabbed a fist full of Morty’s hair. He pulled back his arm and punched Morty across the face once, twice. A sharp pain bloomed in his cheek and he let out a choked noise. He scrabbled at the hand in his hair with his nails, determined to fight back now, when he heard a familiar voice.

“Kevin Hunt, you mouthbreathing motherfucker, you too pussy to pick on someone your own size?”

The blond boy let go of Morty and stepped around him, leaving him blubbering in the snow. He turned around to see Rick in his ubiquitous leather jacket standing ready for the prowling bully with his hands fisted at his sides. 

“I wouldn’t fuck with me,” Rick went on. He shifted his weight and subtly bent his knees as the boy moved closer. “If you want to keep that football scholarship.”

“You talk a big game, faggot. This has been a long time coming.”

Kevin swung in a wide arc that Rick easily sidestepped, and Rick slipped inside his guard. He gave Kevin a swift knee to the groin, and the blond boy shuffled backwards, bent at the waist with his hands pressed to his stomach. When Rick brought his knee up again, though, Kevin batted it away. 

With an animal growl he plunged forward, catching Rick around the waist and knocking him heavily backwards. They tussled on the ground, but Kevin was heavier and kept his seat on top. He punched Rick once and again and again in the face. Rick’s nose crunched and began to gush blood that streamed down his face in a sickening cascade. 

Rick made a deep, guttural sound and he reached up and pressed his thumbs into Kevin’s eyes. As Kevin backed away Rick rolled with him until Kevin was on the ground and Rick had regained his feet. He raised one foot and brought it down on Kevin’s knee. There was a stomach turning pop and a tearing sound and then there was nothing but Kevin’s wailing. The misery of it went straight to Morty’s gut.

“I’ll kill you!” Kevin roared, clutching his leg. Tears stood out in his eyes. “I’ll kill you, Sanchez, you beaner faggot!”

Rick stood over him, looking calmly down his nose at him. He spit a gob of blood onto Kevin’s face and turned to Morty. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

Morty didn't dare disobey, and with a single backwards glance he trotted after Rick. Kevin was rolling around on the ground, now surrounded by a thin herd of the students who had been outside when the fight began. Rick didn’t seem to be in a talking mood, so Morty just followed him into the school, through the halls and into the least used bathroom under the backmost staircase. 

Morty still didn’t know what to say when Rick leaned back against the sink, peering at him cooly through a swollen eye. His cool blue eyes were hard as flint, and he looked crazed with blood all over his face and his hair sticking up in every direction--which made him look even more like Morty’s Rick than ever.

So Morty silently went to collect paper towels and wet them in the sink. For a heartbeat he hesitated before reaching out to gently wipe the blood off of Rick’s face. Rick hissed in pain when Morty touched his nose, and Morty drew back in shock. He had rarely seen Rick give an actual reaction to pain. It just further cemented for him the differences between this Rick and his own. 

Rick reached out and grasped Morty’s wrist lightly, preventing him from further cleaning. He was looking at Morty with a frightening intensity, that laser focus zeroed in on him alone. 

“Aww geez, R-R-Rick. You d-didn’t--”

“Shut up, Morty.” Rick let go of his wrist and reached out, gently brushing over the bruise standing out on Morty’s cheek. 

His fingers were cold. The delicate touch hurt, but it made him shiver with sudden shameful arousal. Blue eyes held green with unbreakable gravity. Rick curled his fingers under Morty’s jaw and tilted his head up. 

“Rick,” Morty breathed. He was flushed and cold at the same time. Rick’s expression was open, soft, even through the blood and bruising. “Y-y-you...I mean, I-I…” 

He swallowed hard. He had forgotten how to string words together. He had forgotten everything besides the distinct azure tint of Rick’s beautiful eyes. This couldn’t happen. This had to happen. He wrestled with himself even as he felt himself leaning in toward Rick...

The bathroom door opened and Rick immediately dropped his hand away from Morty’s face. Morty felt color rise in his cheeks as he backed away from Rick, who hopped down from the sink. The boy who had walked in blanched, and Rick rolled his eyes in return. 

“I’ll see you around, Morty,” he said, brushing past the intruder while Morty was left gaping after him.


	3. Chapter 3

Morty had managed to find a dark corner to stand in, but nothing could block out the blaring sound of the stereo and fifty teenage voices filling the house. When Rick dragged him to this party he had promised to stay by his side for the whole night. He had then immediately disappeared into the crowd, leaving Morty to find a space for himself and to just hope that Rick would come back. Apparently Morty hated parties even when he didn’t have to clean up after them; at least he had Rick to thank for that revelation. When he got back home he would never again complain about not being invited to one. 

The music changed and there was cheering from the living room, the designated dancing area. Despite hating it here; he couldn’t help but wish that he had someone who wanted to dance with him. That anyone had _ever_ wanted to dance with him. He was beginning to think he was going to live and die here in the 70’s alone and unloved. From one time period to another he still only had Rick, and this Rick was apparently just as content to forget about Morty when it was convenient for him.

Speak of the devil and he appears, Morty supposed, watching Rick wobble into the room carrying two plastic party cups. He grinned enormously when he saw Morty and made a beeline to him.

“You have no idea what I had to do to get these cups, Morty. I didn’t have any money, Morty. So you’d better drink up.” He pressed one into Morty’s hand, sloshing beer over the rim. “And don’t lose it.” He appeared to take a moment to think. “And don’t leave it lying around anywhere. Teenagers are dicks, Morty.”

“I noticed,” Morty said flatly, not daring to press the issue of his abandonment any further than that. He took one sniff of the beer and wrinkled his nose, but Rick was looking at him with such an open, expectant expression that Morty felt he had to at least try to drink the stuff. He took a deep breath and decided to chug it all in one go.

Rick laughed and slapped him on the arm when he finished. “Morty Smith, big man on campus,” he giggled. “That was pretty badass for a little virgin like you. Here, take mine. Catch the fuck up.”

Morty took the proffered cup and gave it an experimental sniff. This was the familiar paint-thinner smell of hard liquor. “Geez, Rick, I don’t know about this.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Morty. You’re not gonna have any fun until you’re riggety-riggety-rekt.” 

Morty sighed a long-suffering sigh, pinched his nose, and tipped most of the vodka down his throat. He came up spluttering much to Rick’s apparent delight. His schadenfreude laugh was so familiar that Morty gave him a dopey smile in return. He was starting to feel a bit disconnected from his body, like his mind was a separate floating entity. The shadows of bodies moving in the dim room were making him feel a bit dizzy, though, and he pressed his free hand to his forehead to try and still himself. 

More gently than Morty was expecting, Rick took the cup from Morty and drank the rest of it, placing it into Morty’s empty cup and putting both into his oversized jacket pocket. Then he laced his fingers together with Morty’s and pulled him out of his corner. Morty tried to take his hand back, but Rick just squeezed him harder, so he figured that the best thing to do was just go with it. They weaved through classmates who were mostly wearing what Morty had begun to think of popular--or at least normal--clothing for the time period. Rick stood out in his punk getup, but Morty was taking shameful notice of the favors that the leather jacket and tight jeans were doing for him. The air was shockingly cold when they made it outside, but Rick didn’t seem to notice. He led them behind a garden shed and ejected a couple who were making out back there before leaning against the structure. 

He finally let go of Morty’s hand and reached into his inner jacket pocket, producing a gleaming silver cigarette case. “I’m smoking you up, Morty,” he announced as he popped the case open. Half of it appeared to be filled with cigarettes, but there were a few things in there that Morty had to conclude were joints. 

“I _really_ don’t know about this,” Morty fretted, shifting from one foot to the other nervously. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Such a reassuring thing coming from a Rick’s mouth surprised Morty into making eye contact, which Rick must have taken for assent because he proceeded to light a joint and take a long inhale before passing it to Morty.

“Breathe the smoke all the way in and then hold your breath for as long as you can,” he instructed.

Morty took the joint and held it to his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the low, earthy scent. Rick made a ‘hurry up’ gesture, and Morty gave in to the pressure and inhaled the acrid smoke. Immediately his throat spasmed and he began to cough, doubling over. 

“Yeah, about what I expected. Your poor pink little lungs,” Rick cackled. He took the joint away from the still coughing Morty and Morty heard a deep inhale. When Morty looked back up his brow was furrowed in anger, and he was about to just march back inside when Rick reached out and grabbed his arm. “Let me try something,” Rick said, much more softly. “Here, hold this.” He put the joint in Morty’s right hand and gently placed his left hand on Rick’s chest.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Morty spluttered. He started to withdraw his hand, but Rick held it fast.

“Do you trust me?”

Morty hesitated for a moment, but when he saw hurt begin to creep into he nodded his head. “Of course I do, Rick!” He quieted a bit, hoping that his sincerity was showing in his eyes. “Of course I do.” Because what choice had Morty ever had? He trusted Rick implicitly. Even if he wasn’t yet _his_ Rick...he was still his Rick. And he’d gone out of his way already to take care of him--far above and beyond.

“Then do what I tell you, you little dipshit. Feel me breathing?” When Morty nodded he went on. “You’re going to breathe with me. I breathe out, you breathe in--got it?” Morty nodded again. “Put the joint up to my lips now.”

Morty reached out and obeyed, and Rick took a deep hit. Quickly he leaned forward and, making a tunnel between their mouths with his hands, breathed smoke out into Morty’s face. Morty sucked in as much as he could even though a lot of it dissipated between them

“Hold it,” Rick said warningly. “Hold it...that’s right….ok, now breathe out.”

Morty finally let out a breath, sucking down mouthfuls of cold air to try and soothe his irritated throat and lungs. He looked up at Rick, who was smirking at him in a rogueish way. “Th-that wasn’t so bad,” he said finally. He was beginning to feel even more disconnected from himself but in a much lighter way. The snow on the ground practically glowed before his eyes, and the icy air felt amazing on his skin. 

“You like it? I laced it myself with a little something I invented. It’ll take you to cloud-fucking-nine, Morty!”

“Yeah, Rick, I like it.” He felt like he should have objected to something that was just said to him, but he couldn’t be bothered to figure out just what it was. He straightened his back and tightened his fingers on Rick’s chest. He thought he saw something strange pass behind Rick’s eyes, something soft. 

“Let me hit it again,” Rick said quickly. It took Morty a moment to remember that he was holding the joint, but he reached up and held it up to Rick’s lips. Once again the boy breathed deeply and then leaned down to blow smoke into Morty’s mouth.

This time Morty paid a bit more attention as he breathed in the smoke. He felt the tickle of Rick’s breath against his lips, tasted the sweet and acrid taste of his breath. He held his breath this time without being told until he couldn’t hold it anymore, leaning with both hands against Rick’s chest. From somewhere far away he felt the joint being taken from him, heard and felt Rick take a couple of deep breaths. Turning his head, he watched Rick squeeze the glowing ember off the end of the joint and slip it back into his cigarette case. 

“Come inside with me, Morty,” he murmured to him, taking both his wrists and easing him back up to standing straight. “Come dance with me.”

“Geez, Rick,” Morty said, but he couldn’t remember what his objection was supposed to be. Instead he went with the first thing to flit into his mind. “I’ve never danced with anyone before.”

“There’s a first time for everything, Morty.”

The trek back inside felt long. Once they walked inside his skin began to prickle with the heat of the press of bodies. Rick led him unerringly to the living room, which had begun to thin out as partiers gravitated toward other rooms in small clusters and couples. 

“The music sucks, but…” Rick took Morty’s left hand and put his other arm around the smaller boy’s waist and drew him close. 

“Rick,” Morty whined, looking back and forth around the room. It accomplished little other than filling his vision with streaks of colored light. “Aren’t you worried that…”

“Pssh. I already put Kevin fucking Hunt down. Let someone _try_ to fuck with me.” Rick put his cheek to Morty’s. “Or you,” he murmured into his ear.

A thrill shot down Morty’s spine. He slipped his arm around Rick in return and closed his eyes, simply breathing in the familiar scent of Rick’s skin, the scent of leather and the musk of weed mingling over top. 

Rick shifted, nuzzling into Morty’s curls. The song played on and they swayed together, oblivious to the party around them. When it came to an end, Rick pulled back slightly. His blue eyes shone as he looked down at Morty. “Want to get out of here?” he asked in a husky voice. 

Morty just nodded breathlessly. 

Just as he had on the first night that they met Rick draped his jacket over Morty’s shoulders, and with his arm around him they left the house. It was cold outside, but being snuggled in next to Rick was pleasant, and they fell into a comfortable silence together as they walked around the block to Rick’s dad’s Chevy Vega. Rick held the door open for Morty to slide in, then he climbed in on the driver’s side. Morty jumped when Rick closed the door behind him. When he recovered himself, Rick had slid across the bench seat, crowding him in. 

“Rick…” Morty was struggling with himself internally. The night was so dark but a nearby streetlamp was casting a soft light in the car, striking stars into Rick’s eyes and highlighting his hair like a halo. He was so beautiful, and Morty was so plain, and--

All thought fled from him when Rick took his face between his palms. He reverently brushed a thumb across Morty’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful, cariño,” he murmured. Morty felt tears slip from his eyes. Rick thumbed them away. “Don’t cry. I don’t want you to ever cry.”

Morty couldn’t do anything but shake his head, hiccuping with tears now. He couldn’t tell this Rick anything about why he was crying. He couldn’t say a single word without losing him for good. 

“Morty, Jesus, what’s wrong?” Rick asked, taking Morty by both shoulders. 

Morty reached out in turn and grabbed Rick by the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. He mashed their mouths together with amateur enthusiasm. Rick made a weak noise against his lips. His hands came up to touch his face again, fingers tucked under his chin to tilt his head just so. Patiently, slowly, he calmed Morty’s motions. He licked into his mouth in long, soft strokes. Rick took his time with him, exploring his mouth with tender curiosity. Morty held on for dear life, clutching fistfuls of Rick’s shirt, even when Rick pulled back, panting. 

“Shit, Morty,” he breathed against his lips. 

“R-R-Rick,” Morty keened. His eyes went wide. Rick. This was Rick, taking his first kiss from him just like he’d taken everything else from Morty so easily. Rick, his fucking grandfather, kissing him in a parked car like he was some kind of floozy. He scrambled backwards, mashing his back against the car door. “I-I-I-I...oh god, I can’t d-d-do this, R-Rick.”

Rick sat back, brow narrowed. “What the _fuck_ , Morty? How are you gonna lead me on like that?” He tried leaning forward again, but Morty kept him at arm’s length.

“No, Rick. I can’t do this. J-j-just take me home, o-okay. I w-w-w-w-wanna go home.” He was starting to cry again. “I wanna go _home_.”

Rick stared at him aghast for a while before sliding back behind the wheel with a growl. “Fine, _Morty_. Whatever you want, little bitch.”

Morty wished that he could get angry and give some kind of self-defense--not to mention a rousing defense of the concept of non-coerced-consent--but he just didn’t have it in him. He just wanted to go home. To his real home. But the attic would have to do for now. He was so tired.

In silence they drove to the school, and Morty thought that Rick would just let him slink away without comment, but when Morty got out of the car so did Rick. 

“Come on, kid,” Rick said, his voice flat, and led him into the school and headed up the stairs to the attic.

“Rick,” Morty hedged, wondering vaguely what he even wanted to say. 

He wasn’t sure whether or not he was glad that Rick ignored him. The other boy began to move around the attic in much the same way as he had that first night, gathering supplies and explaining as he went. 

“This bucket is for puke, just in case. And I know you probably have cotton mouth, but be sparing with the water, would you? I don’t want you to trip on the stairs and break your neck on the way to the bathroom. Don’t pee in the puke bucket or I’m gonna make _you_ clean it up, got it?”

“Y-yeah, Rick, I got it.” When Rick kept fiddling around in the far corner, Morty cleared his throat. “What, um, what are you doing?”

“You’re going to be royally fucked up in the morning, Morty. I’m sleeping here to nurse your dumb ass through your first hangover.”

“O-oh.” Morty sat on his cot and wrapped himself in his scratchy blanket. “Ok.”

“Oh, is it okay with you if I do you this huge solid? Hmm, _Morty_? Fuck.”

Rick laid down on his own cot, turned to face the corner. And if he heard Morty weeping, he did him the courtesy of not turning around.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See End Notes for Content Warning

Rick slinked into his house at 7 the next evening, feeling bad and smelling even worse. He had spent the previous night mostly awake, wondering what he had done wrong and punishing himself for it even though he couldn’t find a satisfactory answer. Morty had been melting in his arms, all his, and then he was pushed away like the garbage he was. Maybe Morty had just seen that in him, saw the filth that was all Rick had on the inside. Morty was as pure as an angel, so maybe it was better this way--better if Rick couldn’t sully him any more than he already had.

Or maybe it was just gay panic. That was always an option.

After nursing Morty through his hangover in the morning--including the insult to injury that was being puked on--Rick had spent the whole day driving around town restlessly. But he had to go home at some point, and by 7 he was hoping that his dad had a pleasant buzz going and he could make it inside without much trouble. 

Was he ever wrong.

By the time the door had swung the whole way closed Rick’s piece of shit dad was pushing himself out of his armchair. He flattened himself against the door. 

“Dad, I can--”

“Oh, please do. I want to hear this one.” Ricardo Sanchez sr. approached his son, stopping short and wrinkling his nose. “You better pray I don’t find any puke in my car,” he threatened.

“No, sir,” Rick said, lowering his head to look at the familiar puce carpet. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. 

“Mijito,” his mother’s voice came from the doorway, and he looked up to see her clutching her hand to her chest. The look of relief on her face pierced him straight through the heart with guilt.

Ricardo whipped his head around to glare at his wife. “ _English_ , Rosa. We all speak _fucking_ English in this house!”

“Ricardo, please. Let him come eat,” she begged, pressing herself to the door frame that led into the kitchen as if she could hide from her husband’s wrath.”

“No. I want to know where this little piece of shit has been with my car all day.” He turned back to Rick. “Well? I’m waiting.”

“I got real drunk at a party last night and I slept it off in the car,” Rick said. There was no emotion in his voice, no fight. It was as much of a lie as he dared to tell directly to his father. Sometimes when he told most of the truth it went better for him.

His father just scoffed. “Who’d want a little queer like you at a party?” He pushed the boy by both shoulders back against the door. “Bet you were taking _my fucking_ car for a joy ride with one of your disgusting little boyfriends.”

“I-I-I…”

“I I I,” his father mocked. He gripped Rick by his unruly hair and threw him onto the living room floor at his feet. “You don’t even try to deny it. You’re so disgusting.” He punctuated his thoughts with kicks aimed at Rick’s stomach. 

“Don’t,” his mother cried, but she was silenced with a single deadly look from his father.

Rick didn’t even try to regain his feet. He put his hands on his ears to protect his face and tried to go somewhere else in his mind for the duration of the beating. The only place his heart and mind wanted to be was back at school with Morty, even after his rejection the night before. The thought of Morty’s eyes shining in horror at him in the moonlight didn’t help anything, and tears came unbidden. 

His father knelt over him, eyes crazed, reeking of booze. “Your whore mother must have been cheating because my real son...wouldn’t cry like a little bitch!” He reached out with his powerful hands and wrapped them around Rick’s throat. “You were a mistake. You hear me, you queer little fuck?! You were a _mistake_!” 

Rick was desperate for air. He clawed at his father’s hands, but his grip was too strong. The edges of Rick’s vision were beginning to darken when the man let up, turning away from him to bat his mother away. Rick roared and dove onto his father, but he was rebuffed by a rabbit punch to the gut. Still, he had to try to keep his father’s focus on him, off of his mother. Gasping for air, he reached out again and scratched at his father’s face.

“I’ll kill you,” Rick gritted out around the lump in his throat.

His father boxed him in the side of the head, laughing as Rick saw stars. “You hit like a girl,” he said dismissively, and punctuated it with another punch. 

There was a ringing in Rick’s ears and his vision turned black for a moment. His arms felt weak. When he came back to his senses, his father was standing over him. He gave him a swift parting kick to his ribs. 

“Go clean yourself up, crybaby.” His father teetered away in search of more tequila.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Child Abuse


	5. Chapter 5

Rick stayed on the floor for a while, letting all feeling seep out of himself with his tears. Distantly he heard the sound of raised voices. It was the familiar refrain of his everyday life, the chorus that rocked him to sleep alone in his room nightly. Gradually he peeled himself off of the floor and made his way down the hall to his room. No more. He wasn’t going to take this for a single minute more. 

Utterly bereft, he moved through his bedroom like an automaton. He retrieved the roll of bills he had stashed under his mattress and stuffed it into a gym bag along with some clothing. It was with regret that he looked at his record player and beloved collection of albums, but he couldn’t take them with him. It was a little sad knowing that there was nothing else in his life that he cared about taking, but for the most part it was freeing. Despite the pounding in his head he was feeling lighter than he had in some time now. 

On his way down the hall he could hear his father still shouting and the horrible sound of his mother crying. It was almost enough to make him stop. Almost. But he schooled his heart to hardness. Freedom came through sacrifice. He whispered a goodbye to her and pushed out through the front door without looking back.

He was practically frozen solid by the time he made his way to the school on foot, the January wind cutting straight through his leather jacket. With numb fingers he opened the gym door. The attic was drawing him like a moth to the flame. He was willing to feel the burn again just to be close to him--close to the boy who made him feel like he had a real home.

When he had mounted the stairs he came face to face with Morty, who was standing poised between fight and flight. He visibly relaxed when they locked eyes.

“G-geez, Rick, you scared me. I thought I was caught for sure.”

“Sorry.” Rick let his bag drop to the floor next to his feet. 

Morty’s eyes flashed down to it and then back up to Rick’s face. “What’s that, Rick?”

Rick flashed him an empty smile. “Whaddaya say about having a roommate?”

Morty’s eyes narrowed, and for a long moment he thought that Morty would tell him to get out, that he was still repelled by him. Instead, the younger boy took a few hesitant steps forward until they were standing nearly toe-to-toe. He reached out and touched the side of Rick’s neck. Rick flinched away and Morty quickly withdrew his hand. 

“Why do you have bruises on your throat?” he asked quietly. His eyes were profoundly sad. Rick couldn’t maintain eye contact, and he looked down to the floor.

“I got in another fight,” Rick hedged. He feared that the taste of his own dishonesty was tingeing his voice.

Morty took Rick by the hand and pulled him further into the attic. He sat himself down on his cot, clearly intending for Rick to sit beside him. Instead, Rick knelt down between Morty’s knees. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long time. Morty’s jade eyes were so soft and gentle, and Rick thought that he could be happy lost within them forever.

“I hate seeing you get hurt,” said Morty. “You’ve really got to stop this self-destructive behavior, you know?”

Rick bit his lip to try and keep his tears inside, but they slipped from his eyes anyway. Morty still cared. He buried his face and his shame in Morty’s chest, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He clutched at Morty’s shirt miserably. He could feel the warmth of Morty’s hands hovering just above his skin for a hesitating moment before they came to rest on the back of his neck, and then fingers threaded soothingly through his hair.

“I d-don’t really know what’s wrong, Rick, but you’re safe here,” Morty murmured to him. He distantly heard Morty humming a familiar lullaby--one Rick’s mother had sang to him when he was a small child. 

At the sound, Rick’s heart dropped straight out of his chest and he finally began to cry with his full voice. He wailed into Morty’s chest, bawling until his sore throat couldn’t make another sound. As the violence of his shaking died down Morty gently pushed him back and wiped his eyes. He smiled at Rick sadly while Rick trembled in his arms.

“Cariño,” he murmured, “I want you.”

Reverently, Rick reached out and laced his fingers through Morty’s hair, playing with a stray curl at the back of his neck. Slowly but firmly he pulled him forward and pressed their lips together. For a moment Morty stiffened but then he swiftly melted against Rick, kissing back with hunger.

It emboldened Rick to lick his way into Morty’s willing mouth. Morty put his arms around Rick’s waist underneath his jacket, and Rick shrugged off the offending garment before returning his hands to the sides of Morty’s face. 

They broke apart, both breathing heavily, and sat in the quiet with their foreheads touching.

“Rick?” Morty whispered.

Rick waited, barely breathing, to be rejected again. 

Morty’s hands came up to where Rick was holding his face and covered his cold hands with smaller, warmer ones.

“I think I’ve always loved you, Rick.”

Then Rick pressed forward, capturing Morty’s lips again with a furious passion. His hands fumbled between them with Morty’s button and zipper, but soon he had them both undone. When Morty didn’t stop him, he jerked his pants and underwear down. He needed him like he had never needed anyone before. Ravenously he took Morty’s hot, hard length into his mouth. The silky feeling of his skin on his tongue made Rick moan, and the vibration of it ripped an answering moan out of Morty. The younger boy’s hand came down to nestle in Rick’s wild hair. He wasn’t pressing down, but Rick took it as a cue to go deeper and he sucked Morty further in, bringing his hand up to cover the rest as his head moved up and down. He cast his blue eyes upwards to look at Morty’s face which was turning red. He was biting his lip and making little noises that were driving Rick wild. 

Closing his eyes again he leaned even further down, letting Morty nudge against the back of his mouth and then, after a deep breath, allowed him to slip past his gag reflex and into his throat. His whole body spasmed as he did it. He swallowed around Morty’s dick and heard the boy cry out in pleasure. Rick held the position for as long as he could before collapsing backwards, sitting back on his haunches and panting. His face was slick with saliva and tears and it felt hot like he had a fever. 

He was leaning back in for round two when Morty stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “If you do that again I’m gonna come, Rick.” He let the other boy peel his teeshirt off, both of them breathing slowly and holding eye contact. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

With shy, light touches Morty ran his fingers over Rick’s nipples. Rick moaned lewdly, half in real pleasure and half in encouragement. Emboldened, Morty touched him more firmly, rolling his nipples between his fingers. “Harder,” Rick begged. Morty was more than happy to comply, and he tweaked them with ruthless abandon. That earned him a full-body groan. 

“Y-y-you like it rough?” Morty asked, clearly trying to sound sexy. 

“Yeah, baby,” Rick answered, voice husky with desire. 

Morty leaned forward and put his lips beside Rick’s ear, breathing warmly on his neck. He gave a little lick to the shell of his ear. “Are you a little slut?” he asked. He punctuated the question with a cruel twist of Rick’s nipple. 

“ _Fuck_ , Yes! Yes!” He was breathing hard now, blowing out breaths that stirred the small hairs of Morty’s neck. He dipped his head and kissed the salty skin there, mouthing and sucking deep bruises into his throat, making Morty moan in pleasure. 

“You’re _m-my_ little slut, aren’t you?” Morty panted. He let go of Rick’s nipples and put his arms around his shoulders. 

“All yours,” Rick agreed, voice breathy. He frantically ripped off his belt and undid his fly. “Stay here. Don’t move.” When he got up he stepped out of his pants and shoes, leaving Morty to contend with his own. 

He went to the corner and dug around in a discarded desk, coming out triumphantly holding a jar of vaseline he had hidden there a long time ago. When he came back with it, Morty’s eyes went wide. Rick laughed.

“It’s not for you,” he reassured him. He nudged Morty back to lie down and climbed onto the cot straddling his knees. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna make this feel so good for you.” As he reached behind himself to use his long, slick fingers to spread himself open, he kissed Morty under the jaw. “Fuck, you’re going to feel so good inside of me.” He let himself breathe heavily as he swiped his fingers over his prostate, and he felt Morty breathing with him.

“I...I can’t...I’ve never.”

“Shh, you can do this, cariño,” Rick soothed. “Let me be a little slut for you. Fuck me, Morty.” He ran his slick hand over Morty’s erection and lined him up with his dripping entrance. 

“Oh my god, _Rick_ ,” Morty moaned, clutching at Rick’s sides. 

He slipped inside with an easy slide, and Rick let out a debauched moan. 

Morty was struggling to speak underneath him. Rick thought it was a good look on the boy--pink faced, teary eyed, head thrown back and panting for air.

“It’s so _tight_ ,” he finally managed. 

“Mm, you like it, cariño?” Slowly and delicately he began to move, stroking up and down in Morty’s lap.

“It feels so good, Rick,” Morty panted. “Shit, _fuck_ , it feels _so good_ …”

Rick reached down and stroked himself languidly, swiping precome up and down over his shaft as he rode Morty. He began to pick up his speed and the depth of his thrusts, letting Morty slide almost the whole way out and then slamming his body back down. The desperate noises Morty made as Rick fucked himself on his cock were delicious. They made him greedy. Angling his hips a little he found the sweet spot within himself, letting Morty pound into his prostate. He held his weight with his hands on Morty’s hips, preventing him from thrusting upwards. 

Again and again he bounced up and down, hitting his prostate with every stroke. Words in both Spanish and English dripped from his lips in an unending and unintelligible stream. He felt Morty’s hands on him, touching his thighs, his stomach and then--haltingly--his cock. Inexpertly but with enthusiasm he began to jack him off, trying to keep to the rhythm but clearly struggling. It didn’t matter. Rick could feel pleasure coiled tighter than a spring inside himself. He wouldn’t last much longer.

“I want you to come inside of me, baby,” he babbled. “Come inside me. I’m such a good little slut for you, I want to make you come. _Please_ …”

“Fuck, Rick, that’s so hot…” Morty let go of him and reached up to grab him by the jaw, forcing his head down and making eye contact. “Tell me again.”

Rick grinned wickedly and tossed his hair in a way that he knew was fetching. Sweat dripped down his neck, his dick twitched in front of him. He was close to his release. “I’m nothing but your little slut, Morty,” he said. 

It seemed to work, because Morty took him in hand again and furiously jerked him off while his hips fought to roll up into Rick’s. Rick responded by bouncing on him harder and faster. Soon with a choked off moan Morty came inside of him in a burst of liquid heat. The slickness of it felt even better than it had before, and it was all of three pumps before Rick was coming too, shooting his load all over Morty’s bare chest.

With an appreciative groan, Rick carefully pulled off of Morty and sank down next to him, laying on his side. His fingers toyed with Morty’s sweaty curls while they both caught their breath. 

Morty turned his head and looked him in the eye. “Rick?”

“Yes, cariño?”

“I don’t really think you’re a slut.”

Rick tried to smile back, but he could feel the sadness in it. “If only you know, Morty.”

Morty shook his head. “I think you’ve been lonely.” He laid his hand over Rick’s heart, returning Rick’s ashamed smile with a warmer one. “You don’t have to be lonely anymore.”

Rick frowned. He didn’t know how to tell this beautiful boy that he couldn’t trust that, how he was sure that, given enough time, he would leave him. He would see the disgusting excuse for a soul that he had inside and be horrified in his own pureness. Instead of any of that, he put his hand over Morty’s and tried to put on a smile instead. “You, too, Morty. You, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

That morning was Monday, but when Morty woke with the dim light coming through the window he decided that neither he nor Rick was up to going to school today. He still didn’t know what had driven Rick here the night before, but he had the sense that it was something really bad and not just a case of his famous wanderlust. He didn’t believe that the bruises on Rick’s neck were from some random brawl, either. What kind of high school fist fight ended with someone getting sincerely choked out?

He looked over at the sleeping face beside him with mixed feelings. He didn’t regret what he had done, exactly, but there was something inside of him that was still ill at ease with the whole thing. Maybe it was self recrimination for not being as disgusted as he should have been. He tried reminding himself that this was technically incest, but that didn’t make Rick any less beautiful, or ease the aching beginnings of arousal at the memories of last night. He blushed at the memory of telling Rick that he loved him, but he didn’t mean it any less in the literal light of morning.

But shouldn’t Rick be given the opportunity to make the same decision that Morty apparently had? Even knowing that he would lose him Morty still thought it was the moral thing to come clean. When he kissed Rick on the cheek the other boy mumbled in his sleep. Morty slipped out of bed and got dressed for the most uncomfortable wait of his life.

It seemed like hours before Rick opened his eyes, looking blearily around. Morty allowed his moment of confusion. Then those glittering blue eyes settled on him, and Morty tried to smile lightly back. Rick’s stricken expression loosened, and he sagged back down in the cot with a relieved sigh. 

“M-morning, Rick,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm.

“Morning, Morty,” Rick mumbled back. It made Morty smile to discover that Rick had never been a morning person. He wished he had some coffee to give him.

But when he came back to himself the smile wilted a little. “Rick, w-w-we need to talk about last night.”

That seemed to get his attention. He sat up in the cot, his hands balled in the blanket in his lap. It was sad that he was about to ruin things between them, but Morty couldn’t stand any dishonesty between them. Not after how close they had come to each other the night before. 

“Yeah, I get it. You don’t have to say anything.”

Morty rose quickly to his feet. “That’s not it! I--I don’t really have any regrets, Rick. But that’s what I need to talk to you about. B-b-b-because I sh-should.”

“Right. You’re straight, I get it,” Rick said, rolling his eyes. He looked so resigned that it was beginning to aggravate Morty. Wasn’t he going to fight for himself...at all?

“No! Jesus, Rick, just shut the fuck up and listen!” Morty paused for a moment to give Rick the opportunity to speak up again, but he obediently kept his mouth shut. “It’s not about you, it’s about me. Well, mostly.” He took a shaky breath. “I haven’t been honest about who I am. I’m from the future.” Morty rushed on, afraid that if he so much as paused he would chicken out altogether. “In my present it’s the year 2019.”

Rick snorted. “Time travel is impossible. I’ve toyed with the concept myself but there’s no real way to work it out.”

“God, Rick, didn’t I say to shut the fuck up? Geez...let me get through this, ok?” He glared at Rick until the other boy nodded and then immediately he went on. “That’s not the bad part, Rick. The bad part is...fuck, ok. The bad part is that you’re my grandfather.”

The utterance seemed to stun both of them. A heavy blanket of silence fell over the two of them, floating in the air like the motes through the morning’s beams of light. 

“Why would you even fucking say something like that, Morty? Is this some kind of fetish?”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Morty said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “But I have proof. Move over.” He sat on the cot next to Rick and powered on the device. One glance at Rick’s face told Morty that he was hooked. His eyes were lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning and he was drumming his fingertips on his thighs. 

“What is that?”

“It’s called a cell phone. And don’t ask me h-how it works ‘cause I don’t really know,” Morty said, cutting off that line of questioning before it started. “You carry it around in your pocket and you can make calls and send text messages to people and stuff. And it has a camera in it, too. Look.” He held up the phone, put his face beside Rick’s, and took a selfie of them. Then he held it up for Rick to look. The proof of concept was undeniable. Then Morty started scrolling through his photo gallery. He skipped a few alien landscapes before he found the most recent picture of him and Rick, who was making a half lidded frown at the camera over the lip of his flask. “That’s you. And this one, too. And here we are at the bazaar on Xylup 16. Here, you can look through them.” Morty showed him how to swipe through the pictures, and Rick took the phone in both hands, rapt.

“You have a spaceship made out of old car parts, and a portal gun that lets you teleport and travel between dimensions. We have adventures all over the multiverse. There’s even a city in space where everyone’s a different dimension version of you and me.” Morty squeezed his knees with both hands. “I’m not even sure I’m in my original dimension, to be honest with you.”

“That’s why you knew my name,” Rick said, his eyes never leaving the phone screen. “And why you said that weird shit when we met. You said...a _portal_ gun?”

“Yeah, Rick.” Morty was feeling some relief that Rick hadn’t zeroed in yet on the cause of Morty’s discomfort. It was a short reprieve from the internal pressure he’d been feeling all morning. “It shoots out portals and then we walk through them and we’re somewhere else.”

“I invented teleportation?”

“ _Multidimensional_ teleportation,” Morty said proudly. “You’re basically the smartest man in the universe, Rick.”

Rick snorted. “Like I didn’t know that already.” He moved his thumb over his face in one of the photos. “God, I’m old.”

“Yeah…” Morty cleared his throat. “I accidentally fucked with something in your workshop and ended up here. I thought you would have come for me by now, but...you must just not be able to find me. I don’t know if you ever will. I might be stuck here forever.”

He watched the gears turning in Rick’s head. “Last night you said you’d _always_ loved me,” he said, speaking slowly. “Were we--”

“N-no!” Morty squeaked. “No. No, nothing like that. Actually, you’re kind of an asshole to me in the future. But I started thinking, you know, and I realized that maybe...maybe I _did_ kind of feel that way. It’s not like you took advantage of me.” Abashed, Morty rubbed at the back of his neck. “Actually, I kinda feel like I was taking advantage of you last night, ‘cause I knew all this stuff and you didn’t. That’s why I decided to tell you.”

“Fuck.” Rick laid back, covering his eyes with his hands. “Ok. Fuck. If _I’m_ not coming for you, then _I’ll_ help you get home.”

“Rick, you…”

“Don’t, Morty. Just...don’t. Let me help you, ok?” Rick ran his hands down his face and gave Morty an unconvincing smile. “If you don’t belong here you’ll probably just make some kind of paradox and end the world or some shit like that.”

Morty laid down beside him and put his head on his shoulder. “What if I don’t want to go anymore, Rick?” He lowered his voice to the barest, trembling whisper. “I meant what I said last night. I love you.”

“Baby,” Rick cooed. He laid his hand on Morty’s cheek and bent down to kiss him. “Don’t give up your whole life for me.”

“You are my life, Rick,” Morty murmured in a wavering voice. “You’ve been my life since the d-d-day you showed up at our door three years ago.”

Rick smiled down at him, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Should you be telling me all of this about my life, cariño?” Morty clapped his hand over his mouth and Rick actually laughed aloud. “If everything you’re saying is true, I’ll be ok, won’t I? I must, if you exist.” Morty must have looked disappointed, because Rick soothed his hand over Morty’s hair and his expression softened. “I don’t want you to go, either, but what choice do we have?”

Morty was drawn into the orbit of Rick’s mind as always. “I guess so, Rick.”

“So let’s not waste any time, hmm?” He came in for another kiss, a deeper kiss, and they fell into each others’ hungry arms. 

Morty fell asleep in the afterglow, and when he came awake Rick was sitting on the other cot, hunched over a notebook. Morty, wrapped in his blanket, came over to look over his shoulder. The page was full of mathematics far beyond what Morty could ever hope to understand even if he spent the rest of his life studying. 

“What’s that?”

“Hmm? Oh, Morty. This,” he said proudly, “is time travel. At least theoretically. I just need the parts to build it.” He grinned up at Morty. “We’re going to have to break into RadioShack.”

“What? No! I d-d-don’t want to steal stuff!”

“Science is expensive, _Morty_. Besides, weren’t you about to smash a window in when we first met?”

“That was different,” Morty groused. “I was in a desperate situation.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Morty, you still are.”

“Can’t we just get jobs or something and earn the money?”

“How long do you want to keep living in this fucking attic? Because let me tell you, it’s going to be a long time if we just flip burgers until we earn enough dough to pay for this shit,” he said, gesturing to the paper filled with numbers.

Morty sighed and caved like he always did. “Fine. When are we going?”

“No time like the present,” Rick ventured.

Morty vetoed that immediately. “I’m not doing a daytime robbery.”

“Fine. Tonight, then.”

They spent the rest of the day preparing. Rick tore the attic apart looking for viable lock picks and eventually managed to make some. He made a detailed list of the parts that he would need to make the machine and explained to Morty what each and every piece looked like. They both dressed in dark clothes that Rick had brought with him...and they had sex one more time when Rick couldn’t resist the vulnerable way that his too-big shirt kept sliding down Morty’s shoulder. By the time dark fell, they both felt ready. 

It was a long, cold walk to the city’s only RadioShack, and by the time they got there Morty’s fingers were too cold to hold the lock picks steady, so Rick did the honors. They slipped into the dark store and split up, each moving around and efficiently stuffing machine parts into their sacks. For good measure, Rick pried open the till and stuffed bills into his pockets. When Morty glared at him for it, he just shrugged.

They slipped out of the back just in time to round the corner and see the approaching red and blue flash of police lights pulling into the RadioShack parking lot. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Morty said, panicking.

Rick grabbed him by the back of the collar and pulled him back into the alley. “Time to hide the stuff, dipshit,” he whispered. “Just play cool and lay low. Here, gimme your sack.” Morty obeyed, and Rick tossed them both into the dumpster. “Come on.”

Following Rick’s lead, Morty walked out of the alley and made to walk casually past the cop car. As Morty predicted, the police both slid out, both partners looking skeptically at the two boys.

“What are you two doing out so late?” asked the one closer to them, taking out his flashlight and shining it at each of them in turn. “Do your parents know where you are on a school night?”

“Not exactly,” Rick said, throwing his arm over Morty’s shoulders. 

The cop narrowed his eyes. “We got a report of some kids trying to break into this establishment. You two wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Rick quirked his brow. “I’m gonna be truthful with you, officer--we were hanging around here for a while. My buddy’s dad, here, is a fucking racist, officer. He doesn’t like him hanging around with Mexicans. So we kinda have to sneak around if we want to hang out.”

“Uh huh. I’ll ask you again--just what were the two of you doing in a dark alley at one in the morning on a school night?”

“We weren’t breaking into that nerd store, I’ll tell you that.” Rick looked right and left and then leaned toward the officer. “It was just a little bit of youthful hijinks officer. Look…” He dug the cigarette case out of his inner pocket and popped it open. As usual, it had a number of cigarettes and two joints in it. “I know it’s illegal, but look--you guys scared the shit out of us, ok? I’ll stomp these out and then can we call it even?”

The cop let out a longsuffering sigh and crossed his arms while Rick ground the joints to smithereens on the ground. “That’s not going to work twice, you hear me, kid? Now get in the car and I’ll take you--” The radio squawked, calling out another robbery in progress, and the cop sighed again. “Just go home, ok, kids? And don’t be truant tomorrow.”

“Y-y-yes sir,” Morty squeaked, and just like that the police drove away. He turned to Rick with wide eyes. “You just admitted to smoking weed in front of two policemen and they let us walk away.”

“What can I say, Morty? I have charisma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the illustration in this chapter--it was created by the amazing artist tinyMEEPS. If you're interested in commissioning her, here's her website: https://tinymeeps.carrd.co/


	7. Chapter 7

For the next week Rick worked furiously on his time machine and Morty was beginning to feel neglected. They had just truly connected, and now he had to beg for attention. He also had to make sure they were both eating, now that Rick seemed more interested in tinkering than going home or even taking care of himself in any way at all. Morty fussed him into the shower when he started to truly reek, and he ventured out to buy their dinners every night. He was beginning to regret telling Rick the truth for very different reasons than he’d expected. Not even showing an interest in the project yielded much for Morty--but that was more or less par for the course of what he expected from a Rick. He would ramble on about things that went over Morty’s head and therefore didn’t interest him, or shut him down with simple pronouncements like ‘you already know that time travel works’ and Morty’s favorite: ‘you’re wasting my time.’ Other than the occasional whirring of a drill or pounding of a hammer, Morty’s days grew quiet.

So one evening when Rick went from silent to cackling at the top of his lungs, Morty nearly threw his book at him out of a pure startle reaction. “Jesus, Rick!”

“Morty!” Rick rose to his feet, heading toward Morty’s side. “I fucking _did it_ , Morty! _I invented time travel_! What do you think about that? Hm, Morty?”

Morty massaged his own temples. “We were both already expecting that, weren’t we, Rick?”

Rick frowned at him. “Morty, just be happy for me, ok? I just invented _time travel_ , for fuck’s sake!”

He was cradling a device in his arms like a baby. It looked a bit like a bear trap, or maybe more like one of those boxes from ghostbusters, Morty thought. It wasn’t anything like the top-like machine that had started all of this, but Morty supposed that Rick knew what he was doing. This was probably basically a prototype, and a later iteration would be the familiar one. That had to be it.

Morty gently pulled the machine from Rick’s arms and put it on the cot beside himself, and reached out and wrapped his own arms around Rick’s waist. He nuzzled into his stomach, sighing contentedly when Rick carded his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to go yet,” he murmured into Rick’s warm body. 

“Hey, baby, I don’t want you to go, either.” He crouched down and took Morty’s face in his hands. “But you can’t stay. I’ve literally done the math. Every day you stay, the likelihood of you causing a timeline-crashing paradox increases.”

Morty recognized the twitch at the corner of Rick’s mouth, a mirror of his own expression as he tried to put on a brave face. “I know. But...but we’ll…”

“Both be alone?” Morty’s gaze dropped away from Rick’s, and the older boy laughed softly. “You’re not that hard to figure out, Morty.” Rick stroked Morty’s hair. Morty leaned into his touch like a cat. “When you go home, I’ll be there, Morty.”

“But it won’t be you,” Morty fretted. He could feel the stinging in the back of his nose that heralded tears. “You _kind of_ care about me in the future, I guess, but most of the time you’re just an enormous dick.”

“Color me surprised,” Rick snarked. He shook his head. “Life’s going _great_ for me so far. Bet it’s just rainbows and puppies after this. I’m kinda destined to be an asshole, Morty.”

“I’m--I’m not supposed to tell you any more,” Morty said nervously, mostly to stop himself from doing just that.

“I wasn’t really asking, Morty.”

“I know, I just…”

Rick very gently took the machine off the cot and set it on the ground a few yards away. When he came back he sat down beside him and opened his arms. Morty fell into them willingly, laying his head against his chest and letting himself begin to weep. “That’s it, cariño. Let it out.” He rocked Morty with a lazy swaying, singing to him a lullaby in Spanish. It was the same one that his Rick had sung to him on a few occasions during a blackout, and the same one that he had hummed for Rick a week and what felt like a lifetime ago. Morty had never been in love before, and as soon as he had found it he was losing it. He had always felt like the butt of the universe’s grand joke, but never moreso than at this moment. 

“Kiss me, Rick. J-j-just one more t-time.”

“Of course, baby.”

Their lips met, then, and between them passed all the words they couldn’t say--feelings that there were no words _for_ , not really. Morty clung to Rick’s shoulders, and Rick cupped his face, his long fingers skating along his jawline. 

“Lo siento,” Rick murmured against his lips. He kissed Morty’s throat, bit and sucked at his skin. “Lo siento, mi amor, mi corazón…”

Morty’s breathing turned ragged. Despite himself, he felt his cock hardening. “One last time,” he eked out. “I w-w-want to b-be with you one l-last time.”

Rick backed away from him for a few seconds, taking both of their shirts off. Before he could lean in again Morty held him back with a palm on his chest. Morty ran his fingers over the soft skin of his stomach. “In the--in the future, you have so many scars,” he murmured. Rick’s skin tasted salty under his tongue as he laved it across his collarbone. “You’re so soft and smooth now.”

“You like it better?” Rick’s breathing hitched as Morty licked up his throat. Morty could feel his heart beating.

“It’s just different,” Morty answered quietly. He ran his tongue over the shell of Rick’s ear. “Y-you’re so beautiful.”

Rick shivered and flicked his thumbs over Morty’s nipples, brushing them with the light touch he knew Morty liked. Goosebumps stood out on Morty’s arms and shoulders. He laid his head back, looking up into the velvety darkness of the nighttime attic. He just let himself breathe as Rick fished his pulsing cock out of his pants and as he felt the warm wetness of his mouth envelop him. “Riiiiick,” he groaned, setting a slow pace with the roll of his hips. He wanted to savor every moment of this. There was no rush. Rick must have felt differently, though, because he was already pressing his finger to Morty’s asshole, asking a silent question. “P-please,” Morty whimpered, and Rick needed no more invitation than that. He pushed a long finger inside of Morty, quirking it and pressing immediately against Morty’s prostate. Morty cried out and his hips jolted forward. Rick made a lewd, choked moan as Morty edged into his throat. Morty was soon struggling to breathe, holding Rick roughly by the hair and fucking his throat for all he was worth while Rick fingered his asshole. 

“N-n-no,” Morty suddenly blurted out. He pushed Rick back by his shoulders. Their eyes met and both took a few moments just to breathe, studying each other. “I-i-i-it’s too fast.” 

“Alright, carño. We’ll take our time.” 

Rick focused on undoing his belt while Morty kicked the rest of his pants off and he joined him when they were both nude. Rick put his arms around Morty and drew him close, pressing their chests together. He slid his thigh between Morty’s and Morty groaned in delight at their closeness. His cock was still hungry for release, and he rolled his hips against Rick’s, seeking the friction of his body. 

Rick reached between them and closed his hand around both of them, letting their lengths rub together, slick with precome and fever hot against each other. 

“‘S so good, Rick,” Morty panted.

“I know,” Rick grinned. He nipped at the tip of Morty’s nose playfully. “God, I love everything about your body, baby. I want to memorize every inch of you.” He kissed his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. “I want to memorize the way your cock feels in my hand.”

Morty was mortified in the best kind of way, blushing fiercely. “I love you, Rick,”

“I love you, Morty.”

They both quieted then, moving against each other and breathing hard. Morty came first, grunting as he spilled himself against Rick’s belly. He reached down between them, gently knocking Rick’s hand away from both of them and beginning to jerk Rick off. Rick moaned lewdly and reached behind himself, fingering his own asshole until he was coming, too. Their mouths met then, in a deep kiss that neither one wanted to end.

For some time they lay there, naked in the dark. Rick held Morty in his arms, tracing small circles on his back and murmuring sweetly to him. Morty found sorrow rising through his body again, and he cried into Rick’s bare shoulder until he was empty. Rick kissed all of his tears away.

“It’s time,” Rick said to him softly. 

Morty nodded and they untangled from one another and dressed in the quiet. Rick knelt down by his machine and started it up, filling the attic with an electronic hum. A glowing red portal appeared hovering above the machine. It swirled with an eerie light, like the luminescence of hellfire. Morty instinctively stepped back from it.

“What time was it when you came through?” Rick asked, still crouched over the machine.

“Uh...Christmas eve 2019, about 7 PM.”

“I’ll set it to 7:15, then.” Rick fiddled with some dials on the side of the contraption before standing up. “There we go. It’s ready.”

Morty edged closer to the portal, but hesitated. “How do you know if it works?”

Rick just blinked back at him. “Because I’m a genius, Morty.”

“R-right.” Morty decided to chalk his hesitation up to reluctance to leave. Rick was smiling at him, eyes gleaming with a red cast. Morty wondered whether or not it was a genuine smile. “Ok, Rick. Here I go.”

Morty was afraid, so he decided to take it at a run so that he couldn’t chicken out. His feet thudded over the wooden floor, and he leapt into the portal at speed. 

Then there was nothing but pain. He was blinded with red spots covering his vision. He felt himself fall to a floor and his head cracked against it, shooting him through with lancing pain. His stomach was wound tight, his guts twisted and cold. At the very depths of his inhales there came a tightening in his chest. He curled in on himself and coughed into his hands. There was a wetness in his palm. He heard himself whimper.


	8. Chapter 8

“Morty!” Rick roared. He threw himself to his knees beside the boy as soon as his mind caught up to what had happened. The portal didn’t work. Morty was laying on the attic floor whimpering and coughing. With shaking hands Rick rolled him onto his back. His face was so pale, a stark contrast to the blood covering his lips. “Oh my god, what have I done?”

“Rick?” Morty said. His thick lashes were fluttering and his pupils were blown wide even with the bright glow of the portal.

“I’m here, cariño.” Rick gathered Morty up in his arms, cradling his head in the crook of his arm. 

“ _Rick_ ,” he sighed. He reached out blindly. Gently, Rick took his hand and guided it to his cheek. “It didn’t work.”

“No, baby. It didn’t work.”

“Am I going to die, Rick?” He coughed, and a spurt of thick blood poured out of his mouth. 

“No. No, I won’t let you. _I won’t let you_.” Rick cast about himself, but it was hopeless. There was nothing here that he could use to put Morty back together again. He put his hand to Morty’s forehead. The boy was burning up. “I have to go get something, baby.”

“No, Rick. No, please don’t leave me, _please please please_.” Morty clung desperately to Rick’s sleeve. 

Rick hefted Morty in his arms and deposited him on the cot. “I’ll be back. You won’t even know I was gone. You’re going to be just fine, baby. I’m gonna fix it.”

Rick pounded down the stairs and out of the school as fast as he could run, pelting down the street and around the corner to a more residential area. It took a few tries before he found a car with unlocked doors, and he slid inside to hotwire it as quickly as he could. The sleepy nighttime town sped past the windows.

When he reached his house he wrenched the wheel and spun onto the lawn, slamming on the breaks and tumbling out of the vehicle. He left it running and hurried inside.

“Where the _hell_ have you been, boy?” his father roared as Rick burst into the living room. 

Rick didn’t even spare him a glance. “I don’t have time for your bullshit, dad.” He hurried down the hallway to his room.

“What did you say to me?” His father’s voice followed him through the house, thudding footsteps close on his heel. 

“I said fuck off.” Rick began to tear his room apart, looking for the invention that he hoped would save Morty’s life. Frantically he flipped his mattress over, turned out his underwear drawer. Where had he put the damn bonebreak serum? 

His mother’s voice came to him from the doorway. “You shouldn’t speak to your father that way, junior,” she said nervously. 

“You can fuck off, too, mom.” Triumphantly, he pulled a large syringe of bubbling green liquid out of a shoebox at the back of his closet. He slipped it into his pocket and turned around, coming face to face with his parents, who were crowding the exit.

“Do I have to teach you another lesson in respect?” His father’s belt hissed through its loops, and Rick watched as he doubled it up in his hand and stepped threateningly forward.

“I don’t have time for this!” 

Rick took the first two lashes straight across the face, but he simply gritted his teeth and pressed on. He sprang forward, wrapping his long arms around his father’s neck in an efficient choke hold. 

“Junior!” his mother cried out, coming to his side. Her hands hovered over his shoulder.

“Shut up, mom,” Rick growled. She drew back from him. He turned his attention back to his father. “I’m not taking your _shit_ anymore, _old man_. You hear me!? You’ve really fucked up now! I’m bigger than you and I’m stronger than you and I _will_ kill you if you keep coming for me!” He tightened his grip. His father’s face was turning beet red, his eyes wild and rolled up toward Rick. Rick gazed back at him with feverish intensity until his body slumped and Rick let him fall to the ground.

His mother fell to the floor, wailing. Rick frowned down at her. “He’s not dead.” That was all the comfort he offered her on his way out of the house. He didn’t even realize that his cheek was streaming blood until he caught a glimpse of himself in the stolen car’s mirror. It didn’t matter. His father and mother didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting back to Morty in time.

He took the stairs to the attic two at a time when he got back. 

“Morty! I’m back, Morty!”  
The boy was lying still on his cot, soundless. Pale. 

“No,” Rick said, firmly. His stomach had dropped out, but his voice was steadfast. “No. You’re not dead, Morty. Do you _hear me_?! You can’t be dead.”

He took out the syringe and lined it up with a vein in Morty’s wrist, injecting all of the fluid into his body. For too long he sat, waiting and smoothing his hand through Morty’s curls. He didn’t realize that he was crying until he heard the warble in his voice as he began to sing his lullaby to the boy. His heart was growing cold inside his chest.

There was a strange noise and a crimson light flared to life behind him. Rick protectively kept his body over Morty as he turned around to look at the intrusion. Standing there, silhouetted in neon red, stood...himself. This new him was old, world weary and worn around the eyes. Rick was too shocked to move, and the newcomer had to knock him out of the way to lean down over Morty and place his own syringe in the boy’s arm. Immediately some color came back to his cheeks, and his thready breathing became loud enough to hear.

“You…” breathed the younger Rick. It was hard to peel his eyes away from Morty, but he got to his feet and stood nose to nose with himself.

“I’m not here to have a heart-to-heart,” his older self cautioned. “Morty’s a dumbass and he’s already told you enough about the future.”

“I don’t want to know about the future. I just want…”

“I know. I’m you, remember?” The older Rick pulled a flask out of his labcoat pocket and took a deep pull from it. “Congratulations on putting dad down, by the way.” He held out the flask to his younger self. “Here. Consider it a trophy.”

Rick took the flask in trembling hands and took a swig, himself. “Why didn’t you come for him sooner? You could have spared him from all of this.”

Old Rick shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head slightly to the side. “I didn’t come sooner because I didn’t come sooner, dipshit. Think before you ask questions.”

Rick thought he had steeled his heart for this, but now that he didn’t have to put Morty at ease he found it much more difficult to pretend that _he_ was. He looked down at his feet, feeling the heaviness of the moment. 

“Go say goodbye, kid. You’re not going to see him again for like 40 years.”

Rick knelt down beside the cot. He traced his spidery fingers down his cheek, swept his thumb over the boy’s soft lips. “Te amo, cariño.” He placed a chaste kiss on Morty’s mouth and stood back. “Take him before I change my mind.”

Old Rick snorted. “Like you could do anything about it, punk-ass little bitch.” He bent over Morty and hefted him up into his arms. “ _Oh_ , my back. Jesus Christ, I am way too old for this.” He stepped back toward the time portal and then turned back to Rick. “Ok. One hint. Morty told you about the portal gun, yeah? The secret is isotope 322. Should fall together pretty easy once you think about that. See ya never.”

Rick watched himself step through the portal, and then he was alone in the dark.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking with me! Here's the last chapter. I hope you all like it. <3

Morty came to in a dark room on a lumpen cot. For a moment his heart sang in his chest. He was alright! And he was still with--

But no, this wasn’t the attic. It was another familiar room. Rick’s room in 2019. Morty sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. They were heavy with sleep and with the weight of tears that he couldn’t keep down.

“Slept long enough,” came Rick’s rough voice from across the room. Morty turned to his right and glared at Rick, who was sipping out of his flask.

“Rick…” So many things were flitting through Morty’s mind that he had to lay back down again, a flop sweat standing out on his brow. His stomach was roiling.

Rick’s knees popped as he stood, and Morty cowered away from him when he came to sit on the edge of his cot. He reached out and laid the back of his hand against Morty’s forehead. “You still have a fever,” he said gruffly. There was a frown on his face, but there was also something else in his expression that Morty could not define. But he did notice his hands shaking.

“I...h-h-how long…”

“About two hours. You’re a champion snoozer, Morty. You know how boring it is to watch someone sleep for two hours, Morty?”

“Oh.” Morty tried to force out a chuckle, but it sounded flat even to him. “Guess I got pretty lucky. For a minute there I r-really thought I was a goner.”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it. I scraped your little ass back together.”

“Th-thanks, Rick. Uh, I guess we should get back to the family, huh?”

Rick frowned at him. He reached out and flicked a switch on the underside of his bedside table. Instantly the sound of the Christmas carols that had been floating up from downstairs was cut off. With trembling hands Rick pushed his greying hair back. He let out a shaky breath. “I’ve been thinking about what I was going to say tonight for 44 years, and I still have no idea.”

“Right now’s not a great time to b-bust my balls, ok, Rick? I just want to go to my--hrk.” Morty tried to get up but Rick pushed him back down with a firm hand on his chest.

“Do you still love me, Morty?”

“Wha--Rick, _what_?” Morty blinked up at his grandfather uncomprehending. Of all the things he had expected, that question hadn’t been one of them.

Rick sighed, seeming to grow smaller as the breath left him. “That’s what I thought.”

“Do...do you want me to still love you?”

“It doesn’t matter, Morty. Just get out of here.”

Rick started to get up, but Morty reached out and caught him by the arm, holding him in place. His hand smoothed down his arm and he twined their fingers together, holding his grandfather’s hand tightly. It was the scariest single thing he had ever done, even after three years of adventures. And he wasn’t sure of his answer until he had done it and seen the glimmer of hope in Rick’s icy blue eyes.

“Yeah, Rick. I g-guess I really do.”

“Oh, cariño,” Rick whispered. He ran his free hand through Morty’s hair. “I’ve been so lonely without you.” His chest heaved and his shoulders quaked as he began to cry.

Morty sat up and put his arms around Rick and let him sob into his shoulder, feeling all at sea. Not for one second had Morty ever suspected Rick felt anything like this. If Rick’s tears hadn’t been very, very real Morty would have been sure he was just fucking with him. But there was no alternative to the realization that his grandfather was in love with him. And Morty returned that love wholeheartedly. 

“It’s ok, Rick,” Morty soothed, trying his best to be comforting even though he just felt like he had no idea what he was doing. “I’m here now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rick cried. He nuzzled into Morty’s neck.

“What? Why are you sorry?”

“I’m--because I’m an old man, now. I’ve always hated you seeing me like this.”

“Oh, Rick,” Morty sighed. He stroked his grandfather’s soft hair. “That doesn’t matter to me.”

In the darkness they searched for each other, and their lips met with a polite clumsiness. It was Rick who deepened the kiss, holding Morty tightly in his arms as he licked into his mouth. Morty moaned and that seemed to drive Rick wild. He pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, lashing their tongues together, his fingers buried in Morty’s curls. In tandem they began to move their hips, both searching for the warm friction they so desperately needed. Rick broke off their kiss, panting for air as Morty did the same.

“Baby…” Rick kissed his lips again softly, and Morty sighed in pure happiness. Rick’s lips brushed against Morty’s earlobe. “I want you to fuck me so hard, cariño.”

Morty rubbed his hips up against Rick’s and bit his lips. “Actually, Rick...I was thinking maybe this time you could fuck _me_.”

That earned a feral growl from Rick that vibrated against Morty’s neck. Rick suckled at his skin.Vaguely somewhere in the back of his mind Morty worried that Rick was giving him a bruise, but right now that didn’t seem to matter very much. Morty managed to get his hands between them and undo Rick’s belt, but Rick pushed his hands out of the way and took the belt the rest of the way off by himself. He pushed Morty’s shirt off roughly.

“You want to get fucked, baby?” he asked darkly.

“I...I think so?” Morty was beginning to wonder if this was actually a good idea. It felt a little too late to back out now, though. Rick was already peeling the rest of their clothes off and tossing every stitch of it away, leaving Morty naked and helpless below him. Somehow this seemed very right, as scary as it was.

“Didn’t realize you were a switch, Morty.” Rick ran his hands up and down the insides of Morty’s thighs. He took Morty’s length in hand and began to stroke him at a punishing pace and cupped Morty’s balls in his other palm. 

“Rick,” Morty cried, twisting his hips. “Don’t! You’ll make me come.” He was beyond turned on now, struggling to hold on and move at Rick’s furious clip.

“That’s the idea, Morty,” Rick grinned. He slicked his fingers down in his precome and slipped one finger inside of him. 

The combination of the hand jerking him off and the intimate touch inside of him was like nothing else. Morty leaned his head back, letting his eyes slip closed and just held on tight as Rick pleasured him. A second finger slid into him. His breath hitched in his throat.

“Baby, look at me. Look at me, cariño,” Rick insisted, and Morty opened his soft green eyes to find Rick looking raptly into his face. 

Rick quirked his fingers, flicking that special little spot inside of Morty. His eyes flew open wide, pleasure filling him with white hot lightning for a moment. Rick laughed, but not unkindly.

“Still sure you want to get fucked, Morty?” He pressed again, and Morty cried out. “Think you can take it?”

“Riiiiick,” Morty groaned. “Yes! Yes yes, _please_ , I want you to fuck me!”

“First I want you to come for me, Morty. Come for grandpa.”

“Nnn…” Morty felt his stomach tighten in shameful pleasure at the utterance. He came for Rick like a puppet on a string, ropes of ejaculate coating his bare chest. 

Rick carefully removed his hand from Morty for the moment. He bent over the boy, licking his way up his chest, cleaning all the come off of his skin. When he reached his mouth Morty eagerly accepted his tongue, tasting himself on his grandfather. After a long, slow kiss Rick kept moving up the cot. Coming to a realization without having to be told anything, Morty opened his mouth and accepted Rick’s length inside. Rick groaned deeply. He nudged his hips back and forth a few times, testing Morty, and he found his partner enthusiastic but with no idea what he was doing. Morty was trying to remember what Rick had done for _him_ when he was in this position, but Rick tutted at him.

“Get out of your own head, baby. Here,” said Rick, taking Morty’s hand and wrapping it around himself. “Use your fist to control the depth. Thaaaatsss it, yeah, baby. I’ve spent the last 40 years regretting not trying this earlier. Your mouth is so soft, Jesus.” Rick grabbed a fistful of Morty’s hair and used it to angle him just the way that he wanted, fucking into his mouth and moaning unreservedly. Morty hummed around him and Rick hissed sharply. Morty tried dragging his tongue against Rick’s skin, swirling it around his head. The sweet and salty taste of his precome was intoxicating.

Rick pulled back and sat, panting and straddling Morty’s chest. When Morty opened his mouth and whined to have his cock back, Rick gave him his thumb to suckle on instead. He leaned back and eased his fingers back inside of Morty. This time he missed Morty’s prostate on purpose, using his fingers to open him up methodically. He removed his fingers from Morty’s mouth and reached over his head to retrieve a tube of personal lubricant from his nightstand. He spread it on his cock, watching Morty’s face. Morty must have looked unsure, because Rick hesitated.

“It’s not too late to back out,” Rick said.

“N-no. I want this.” Morty was more than a little embarrassed. “I’m just nervous.”

“I’m gonna make this feel so good for you, cariño,” Rick soothed. He nudged the head of his cock against Morty’s entrance and began to push forward. Morty was clawing at the sheets before he had even passed the first ring of muscle, and Rick shushed him gently, brushing his curls back from his forehead. “What a good boy, so good for me. That’s it, baby. It’s almost the whole way in now…”

“Hnng, _Rick_ ,” Morty cried out. His chest was heaving with shallow breaths. He felt Rick’s warm hands on his skin. 

“Breathe, baby. Just breathe. You did so good, I’m all the way in now.” Rick took Morty’s flagging erection in his hand and stroked him back to hardness again. “I’m going to start moving now, ok?”

Morty nodded. He scrubbed a few tears out of the corners of his eyes. “Ok.”

Rick rolled his hips, earning himself a wavering moan from Morty. “That’s it, let me hear you, Morty.” His thrusts were already speeding up, and his hand jerked Morty’s cock in time with them. “God, you sound so hot. You’re gonna make me come already--you know I’m not as young as I used to be. Jesus. Say my name, Morty. Say it!”

“Riiiiiick,” Morty whined. “Rick. _Rick_.”

“That’s it. Oh yeah, I _like_ that. That’s fucking delicious, Morty.” He added a little flick of the wrist at the top of every stroke that had Morty practically drooling. “I’m going to fuck you into the mattress, cariño. And then we’re going to do this again.”

True to his word, Rick put Morty’s leg over his shoulder and leaned in, bending the boy in half and going harder and faster. Morty was leaking precome down his own chest, huffing into the space between them. He screamed out when Rick’s cock found his prostate, and Rick’s fingers crushed into Morty’s hips with bruising intensity, holding him still so he could slam into him again and again. 

“I can’t!” Morty babbled out, half sobbing and half screaming.

“You can do it, baby,” Rick growled to him. “Come for me again. Who’s my good boy?”

Morty gritted his teeth and his hand flew to his cock. He began to furiously jerk himself off. “Y-you, too,” he managed. “I w-want you to c-come inside of me!”

“Fuck, so fucking hot, Morty. Yeah, baby, that’s right. I’m gonna come inside this tight little ass. Then you’re gonna be mine forever. _Shit_ ,” he gritted out. “Almost there, baby.”

“I’m yours,” Morty cried out. “I’m already all yours, Rick!” Just the thought was enough to send Morty over the edge. Bent in half this way, when he came it went all over his own face. He felt himself clenching around Rick and then he was flooded with heat as Rick moaned through his own orgasm.

Rick pulled out and flopped on his side next to Morty, who turned to face him. He used his thumb to clean off Morty’s face and wiped it on the blanket, and the two of them pressed their bodies close together in the chilly room. Morty buried his face in Rick’s chest and they put their arms around each other.

“Did you really miss me for 40 years, Rick?” he asked quietly. He wasn’t sure he could have held out for that long if it were him. 

“Every day, cariño,” Rick said. He ran his hand up and down the boy’s back soothingly. “I guess it’s true that the first love cuts the deepest.”

“Geez, Rick, I’m s-sorry. Maybe I should have stayed away from you. You know, in the past.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t--hey, look at me. Don’t ever say that.” Rick held him closer, pressing their foreheads together. “Ok, yeah, this is pretty fucked up, what we’ve got between us. No one is denying that. But I don’t regret it. And maybe...maybe _you’ll_ regret _me_ someday, but let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it, deal?”

“Yeah, ok, Rick. Deal.”

They moved in tandem, pressing their lips together softly, both coming back from the kiss sated.

“Hey Rick?”

“Yeah, Morty?”

“Will you help me with my Spanish midterm?”

“Yeah, Morty. Sure.”


End file.
